


a world of number ones

by Anonymous



Series: it kink!meme prompts [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alley Sex, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Dirty Talk, Eddie's Scout-Master Levels of Preparedness, Explicit Sexual Content, In Between Years, M/M, Okay - there's like...a small nod at plot...but you get it, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Semi-Public Sex, Top Richie Tozier, wet dick Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He was handsome, in a normal sort of way. He had wide shoulders that Eddie thought he would like to see up-close. His hair was fluffy and looked like it would curl if this guy knew what kind of hair conditioner to buy. He was wearing a denim jacket and black pants and Eddie was certain of something: he would absolutely have sex with this guy.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: it kink!meme prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126313
Comments: 7
Kudos: 141
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	a world of number ones

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Eddie is newly divorced from Myra and is just looking for mindless, casual sex to take his mind off of both his loneliness and the existential crisis that comes from being a 40-something bachelor. He doesn't expect to stumble upon an old high school friend who is equally hollow and willing.
> 
> Hi Anon! I took this and ran with it, a bit! Hopefully you like it! It's not bj fic, but I hope that's okay. I've never written top-Richie before so, uh, hope this does that.

Eddie was determined to figure out his shit. It didn’t need to be today, but he’d like it figured out sooner rather than later so he could move on with his life. He was tired of character development. He was ready for the plot to thicken. 

He liked the idea of other things thickening, too. He looked down at the bar top, into twists and whorls of the single, huge cube of ice in his old fashioned, into the center of the universe, into his own mind, and realized he was a bit buzzed. 

It was nice. It was more than nice. He felt, for the first time in a really long while, like he was actually a normal person. Not some puppet version of a person, play acting at his own life. 

There were people, Eddie knew, whose entire jobs consisted of being other people. Impressionists. He always thought there was an irony to that: someone mimicking someone who played a famous character; who had ticks they invented with a director to tell a story; and you copy them and copy someone else and collect a paycheck for pretending to be someone pretending to be someone else. Seemed lonely, to Eddie, who knew more about loneliness than most people knew about anything at all. There was a science behind it, Eddie knew; he’d read about it: some people were born lonely the way others were born with red hair; there were people who got lonely and who stayed lonely for a long time, and there were people who would never be anything but lonely. 

Another irony: of course, the least lonely Eddie has ever felt in his entire life is the day he’s finalized his divorce. He was forty years old, sitting alone at a bar on a Friday night nursing his second bourbon-old fashioned; he had no friends, but he was allowed to paint the walls in his apartment any colour he liked and he got to burn candles that smelt like things other than vanilla, and he was considering going do the SPCA and bringing a cat home. 

He didn’t come to the bar to think about adopting the unwanted black kitten in Brooklyn named Pepper. He came to the bar to meet a man and engage in mutually enjoyable sex acts with them. 

It was getting later than he would really like - he would need to shit or get off the pot. It was quarter after ten, so there was no daylight left to waste. He had just over an hour to meet someone and get his dick wet, or else he wouldn’t be able to say he carpe’d the diem of his divorce being finalized. 

He knew it didn’t really matter if he had sex with a stranger today; it didn’t say or mean anything about him either way. But he wanted to. He was keyed up; he was excited; he was, deep in his bones, so relieved to be free to learn about himself again. He couldn’t wait to see who, when left to his own devices, he would become. 

“Eddie?” A voice from behind him said, and he turned around on his stool, quick enough to increase his heart rate. If it was someone from work, he would jump off the Manhattan Bridge and into the East River on his way home tonight. “Eddie Kaspbrak?”

The man was...not from work, Eddie decided. He wasn’t overly friendly at work, but he knew his coworkers; studied the internal org chart each time it was updated, and he read the BambooHR auto-fill forms when a new-hire was added to the department. But he was familiar. Eddie didn’t know anyone outside of work. He furrowed his brow. 

“Uh,” Eddie said, which was a bad start. The guy smiled, a bit lopsided, a bit goofy, a lot charming. He was handsome, in a normal sort of way. He had wide shoulders that Eddie thought he would like to see up-close. His hair was fluffy and looked like it would curl if this guy knew what kind of hair conditioner to buy. He was wearing a denim jacket and black pants and Eddie was certain of something: he would absolutely have sex with this guy. “That’s me,” Eddie said and gave a half-hearted smile. He was working on being less rude to strangers. 

“God, sorry, this is weird. Uh,” the guy gestured to himself. “Richie,” he said. “Richie Tozier.”

Eddie blinked. Jesus - how had he not remembered? When was the last time Eddie thought about Derry, or any of the people in it? How much he had loved them? “Jesus,” Eddie said. “Richie. Hi, man, what the hell?”

“What the hell yourself, buddy! You live in New York?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Do you?”

Richie shook his head. “LA,” he said. “Are you waiting on anyone?”

Eddie followed his gaze to the empty stool on Eddie’s left. The one he’d tossed his coat onto. “Not at all.” He took his jacket from the stool and hung it off the back of his own chair. “Please, sit.”

Richie smiled, so Eddie guessed he wasn’t waiting for anyone either. “What are you doing in New York?”

“Work,” Richie said. “I, uh, travel a lot. All over the place.”

“Well,” Eddie said. “I’m glad I was here to see you. What’re the chances?”

“Have to be slim.”

“I work in statistics - I should have a guesstimate for this.”

Richie snorted a laugh. “Of course you work in statistics, man. You were a tiny little worry wart. I woulda thought you were a doctor, or a pilot or something.”

“Why?”

Richie shrugged. “You were brave. At least I remember you that way. Tough as nails, too.”

Eddie shook his head. “And what are you doing? Collecting frequent flyer miles to, what, tell people you fucked their moms?”

Richie snorted. “That’s so unfair.”

“How so?” Eddie waved at the bartender, and she nodded as she finished up with another patron on the other end of the bar.

“You know my act?”

“Your act?”

Richie was smiling at him. Leaning on his elbow, turned towards Eddie. He seemed...so open. Eddie wondered what he looked like, to someone who hadn’t seen him in twenty five years and knew nothing about him that mattered. He tried to relax his shoulders.

“I’m a comedian,” Richie said. “You really didn’t know?”

“Oh, God,” Eddie said. “You’re good at it, aren’t you? Fuck, you must be insufferable.”

Richie laughed again, and ordered Eddie another drink and one for himself. 

“I don’t write my own stuff anymore,” he said. “But the material is insufferable, yeah.”

“Damn,” Eddie said. “Should I look it up when I get home?”

“Please don’t,” Richie said; his cheeks were a bit pink. It was cute. Was Eddie going crazy, or was it possible he had a shot, here? “Put your number in my phone later, and maybe I’ll send you some clips of shit I actually wrote.”

“I won’t judge you,” Eddie said. “We all have to take a knee to the man sometimes.”

“I suspect you are the man, Eds.”

“Oh fuck that,” Eddie said. “Don’t call me that.” But he was laughing as he said it; couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

Richie sipped at his drink, so Eddie did the same. His memories of Richie were becoming clearer the longer they sat there. Eddie felt kind of electric; giddy in a way he hadn’t in a long time. 

“So what’s your deal, then?” Richie asked. “If you’re not _the_ man, I mean.”

Eddie shrugged. “I was married. I got divorced. I work for an insurance firm. I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“Oh, you should totally get a cat,” Richie said, which was, somehow, the perfect thing to say. 

“Do you have one?”

Richie shook his head. “I did, once. Her name was Benatar.”

That made Eddie laugh. “Cute.”

“I thought so,” Richie said. 

“What’s your deal, then? You travel to do some sell-out comedy, you used to have a cat named after Pat Benatar. What else?”

“Well,” Richie said. “Not much other than that. I’m not married if that’s what you’re asking. Although it’s only been six months since it’s been legal at the federal level, so.” Richie trailed off. It took Eddie a moment. Obergefell v. Hodges. 

Eddie smiled. “Shoulda happened a lot sooner,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. “Me, too, though.”

“You got married and divorced within the six months gay marriage has been legal?” Richie was making a face. 

“No, fuckface,” Eddie said. “I uh, was married to a woman.”

“Damn,” Richie said. “That. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Eddie shrugged. “I’m doing better.”

“I’m not out,” Richie said, then, which shocked Eddie. Not that it was hard to believe - he worked in show business. But it surprised him that Richie would share that something so personal with him if it could do so much harm. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Eddie said, and something washed of Richie, and he sighed. He seemed relieved. 

“Wow,” Richie said, and let out a little laugh. “Uh, thanks, man. I feel, genuinely, god, so relieved? I think I wanted to tell you all the time when we were kids.”

“Ah,” Eddie said. “I wouldn’t have cared,” Eddie said. “Obviously.”

“Was scary, then.”

Eddie nodded. Pressed his shoe against the metal of Richie’s bar stool. “Scary now, too, sometimes.”

“God, this is morose,” Richie said. “Tell me literally anything else.” His gigantic knee pressed into Eddie’s regular one. 

Eddie was happy to see Richie, sure, but they didn’t know each other anymore. They were strangers who happened to recognize each other. It’d be nice to talk to him more, of course it would - maybe they could even be friends again. But…

But. Eddie didn’t have friends, wasn’t sure he knew how to anymore. But. Eddie had come out to get laid. Richie’s knee was sturdy against Eddie’s under the bar. He smelled like laundry detergent and bourbon. He was handsome and his hands were huge against his highball tumbler. 

Eddie took another slow sip from his drink. The ice cube clinked against the glass. “I wasn’t waiting for anyone,” Eddie said, slow. “But I was waiting.”

Richie swallowed. Eddie imagined how he’d feel: it’s clearly an opening; if someone knew he was gay and said something like that to him, how would he react? He’d probably balk, knowing himself; but Richie’s knee didn’t move. He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

Eddie nodded. 

“Not for anyone in particular?”

He shook his head. “It’s a pleasant surprise, seeing you again.”

Richie smiled. “You too.” He took a sip from his drink. “Eddie Kaspbrak, all grown up. Who’da thunk?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie said, let his lip curl up at the corner. “You grew into yourself too, Richie Tozier.” 

“No one calls me Richie anymore,” he said. He finished his drink in a big sip. Eddie watched the apple of his throat move up and down, and he wanted to lick him, there. He wanted to lick him other places too. 

“They call you Dick?”

“Rich, mostly.”

“I always thought Richie suited you,” Eddie said. “I still go by Eddie.”

“Edward never suited you anyway.”

Eddie tossed back the rest of his drink, and the bartender came back over. 

“Can I get you boys another?” She asked. She already had Eddie’s credit card behind the bar. 

“Not quite yet,” Eddie said. “Are we able to smoke outside?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but since we have patio seating, we ask that you go to the corner. Or you can take the back door.” She waved towards a steel door with a fire exit sign above it. "I can watch your seats.”

“Thanks,” he said and stood. She shuffled down the bar and started to pour a beer from a tap, then stabbed the small chit onto a needle. Eddie patted his pockets. He had his wallet and his phone. He spun on his stool, pressed his and Richie’s legs together in more places. “You coming?” 

“You smoke?” Richie asked.

“No,” Eddie said. “Do you?”

“Not anymore,” Richie said and bit his lip. “Are we doing this?”

“Only if you want to,” Eddie said, suddenly insecure. 

“Do you?” Richie asked, and nearly shivered.

“Yeah, Richie,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Eddie crossed the bar. Richie followed. They didn’t say anything to each other. It barely took twenty seconds to get across the room. Eddie pressed into the latch across the door and it opened; the alley behind the bar was quiet. It smelt like garbage in the way that most streets in New York always smelled like garbage, at least a little. There was no one else there. It was dark, it was eleven o’clock at night. It wasn’t safe, per se, but that was part of it, wasn’t it? Eddie remembered Richie always made Eddie feel like life was full of thrill. His heart was pounding in his chest. He turned to look at Richie, who looked kind of sheepish. Kind of sweaty. Eddie wanted to eat him. Be eaten by him. 

“This is fucking crazy,” Richie said. 

“Yeah, well.” Eddie shrugged. “You wanna bail?”

“Yeah right,” Richie said. “I used to jerk off thinking about you. I’m not wasting my shot.”

“Jesus,” Eddie said. He used to shove his feet in Richie’s face. The idea of Richie jerking off thinking about him made his dick twitch in his pants. Richie was taller than him, probably three or four inches. They’d be just fine. Eddie stepped into his space, and said, “Kiss me, then.”

And then Richie did. He stepped right into Eddie’s space, so close Eddie stepped back, and Richie followed until Eddie’s shoulders pressed against the brick wall of the bar. He ducked his head until his nose brushed Eddie’s cheek. “We’ll have to be quick,” Richie said, and Eddie nodded. He could feel Richie’s breath against his mouth. 

“I prepped earlier,” Eddie said, and Richie’s breath hitched in his chest. “If that’s okay, I mean, we can just -” He was cut off by Richie finally pressing their mouths together. 

It was filthy immediately - he licked Eddie’s lips and Eddie opened to him; he pressed their bodies together and licked behind Eddie’s teeth and Eddie groaned loudly when one of Richie’s hands settled on his cheek, the other against the brick beside his head. Eddie got his arms around Richie, pressed his hands against his shoulder blades, between Richie’s jean jacket and his t-shirt. God, he was fucking massive. Eddie was reeling already, and it hadn’t even been a minute. 

Richie tugged at Eddie's bottom lip with his teeth and pulled back. “You say that to all the guys?” He dragged his teeth along Eddie’s jaw, against his ear lobe.

“No,” Eddie said. “But I did.” 

“I don’t have any lube,” Richie said, and he sounded downright devastated about it. 

“I do,” Eddie said. “Wallet,” he said, and Richie reached around him and shoved his massive hand against Eddie’s ass, and fished his wallet from his pocket. Eddie was obsessed with him. 

“Always were ready for anything,” Richie said. Eddie took his wallet from Richie’s hands, pulled a single-use packet of lube and a condom from it. 

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” Eddie said, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. 

“Fuck,” Richie said, and took both packets from Eddie’s hand. “Undo your pants,” he said. “You always this fucking mouthy?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, even though it wasn’t strictly true. He undid his own belt, then the button and fly on his pants. 

“It’s hot,” Richie said. He unbuttoned his own pants, and Eddie’s dick got, impossibly, harder.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked. “You wanna hear about how I fingered myself earlier?”

Richie made a strangled noise. “Did you come?”

“No,” Eddie said, and Richie finally pushed their bodies back together. Eddie let his back press against the wall behind him completely, let his weight lean into it. He reached out to touch Richie, wanted to sneak his hand inside the fly of his pants and see his dick, but Richie caught his hand in his and held it to the wall. 

“Well,” Richie said. “We better change that.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath. Richie kissed him again, once, long and slow and fucking obscene; he was so good at it; he tasted like bourbon and bitters. He pulled back and said, “Turn around,” and Eddie shivered and did. 

He tugged at the back waistband of Eddie’s pants, got them and his briefs down under his ass. Richie tapped his foot against Eddie’s and Eddie widened his stance. Richie’s hand tracked from the middle of his back, down his spine, over the curve of Eddie’s ass. It tickled. Eddie shivered again. 

“I don’t do this often,” Richie said, and Eddie snorted. He heard the sound of a packet ripping.

“Don’t fuck in alleys? Me neither, dude.”

Richie huffed. “Don’t call me dude when I’m about to fuck you.”

“Fucking wish you would, already.”

“Mouthy,” Richie said and pressed two lubed-up fingers between Eddie’s cheeks, brushed them against his hole. “I meant top. I don’t top often.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, and then he was thinking about fucking Richie, and that made his blood feel like it was on fire. 

“You’ll have to tell me if you need me to do anything different, okay?”

“Can you just,” Eddie started, and then Richie pressed both his fingers into Eddie, one smooth movement, and Eddie choked on the rest of the sentence - “fuck me.”

Richie laughed, small and warm against the back of Eddie’s neck. “Yes, you impatient little gremlin.”

Eddie would normally have a retort to that, but Richie thrust his fingers out and back in, once, twice, a handful more times, and instead, Eddie panted into his own forearm, braised against the wall, his browline pressed into the bone. “Richie," he said, and Richie’s other hand snaked around to press hard against Eddie’s pelvis, under his belly button and above his dick. He was aching with it now, hard and leaking. He didn’t think it would take much. “Please,” he said, and it sounded desperate; like he was begging; like he was praying. 

“Okay, baby,” Richie said, and Eddie bit his own lip as hard as he could. Richie pulled his fingers out of Eddie’s ass, and Eddie missed them terribly. He wanted to look over his shoulder at Richie but didn’t. He heard Richie open up the condom, and then it was only a few seconds before the head of Richie’s cock was pressed against Eddie’s rim. Eddie wanted to hold his breath but didn’t. Took a big inhale in through his nose. As he exhaled out his mouth, Richie pressed into him. He took it slow, which was nice but not at all what Eddie wanted. Eddie wanted to feel it tomorrow. Eddie wanted to feel it the day after that. 

When he bottomed out, Richie kissed at Eddie’s shoulder through his shirt, then against his neck. Eddie said, “Please move,” and Richie bit the skin behind Eddie’s ear, but he did move then. Pulled out part way only to press back in. Eddie used the arm he wasn’t leaning against to reach behind him and grab at Richie’s side. Pressed him close into Eddie. 

“Harder, Richie, c’mon,” Eddie said, and Richie moaned, once, loud, and then said, “Okay, okay, gotcha.” 

He was a good listener, Eddie was realizing. He wanted it to be good for Eddie too. He found a rhythm, fast and hard enough to get Eddie to the edge fairly quickly; his thrusts were relatively shallow; the angle was awkward; Richie was so tall; his cock dragged against Eddie’s prostate with every other thrust or so. It was torture. It was delicious. Eddie, distantly, was aware he was shaking with it. 

“You feel good,” Richie said, and his voice sounded...absolutely fucked. Eddie couldn’t believe he hadn’t remembered him. 

Eddie hummed. “You too. You - ah. You’re so,” he moaned. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Richie, fucking finally, snuck a hand around Eddie and squeezed his massive, giant, unfairly perfect hand around Eddie’s dick. “God,” he said. “Eddie, you’re fucking leaking.”

“I know,” Eddie said, and he would feel embarrassed but it felt so good, Richie’s hands on him, his cock pushing into him, his breath hot against his neck. 

Richie thumbed over the head of his dick, pressed against the slit. “I wanna suck you off, next time,” he said.

Eddie moaned around the words when he said, “Next time.”

“Fuck,” Richie said, and pumped his hand up and down over Eddie’s shaft. “You wanna come first?”

Eddie shook his head, could barely form thoughts let alone words. “You first,” he said, and Richie’s hips slammed into him, hard, once and then again, and Eddie moaned. People would absolutely be able to hear them, if there was anyone at the mouth of the alley; they were lucky no one had come out the fire door. Even if someone had, Eddie wasn’t sure he’d notice. His dick twitched in Richie’s hand. As Richie fucked into him, harder and with less coordinated rhythm than before, Eddie shifted further into the wall. He wondered if Richie could pick him up. Probably. God, Eddie was going to be thinking about this for fucking ever, the way Richie’s dick - as big as he always joked about it being - filled him, the way he kissed and licked and bit at the thin skin along Eddie’s jaw, the way he sounded and the way he jerked Eddie off and the way his voice was starting to break, little “fuck”s and “oh”s and “Eddie”s escaping on his breath. 

He thrust into Eddie hard again, then once more, and then he was coming, groaning into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt at his shoulder, and Eddie could feel it through the condom. It was hot as hell; Eddie almost regretted not telling Richie to hold off, because suddenly the idea of Richie fucking Eddie after he’d come was all Eddie could think about; how sensitive he would be and how much he would feel it. Richie’s voice in his head, suddenly, had Eddie thinking: _next time, next time, next time._

Richie was still mostly hard inside Eddie, and he said, “What do you need, Eds?” against the shell of Eddie’s ear. 

“Ah,” Eddie said, sweaty and already so close to unravelling. “Talk to me,” he said. “Trashmouth,” he remembered, and Richie laughed, sounding surprised. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Richie said. “Fucking you felt amazing. Would kill an army for you to fuck me. Bet you’d be good at it. Bossy.” Eddie keened, fucked into Richie’s fist. “I’d let you be bossy to me, Eddie, you know that? I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Fuck,” Eddie said, and Richie sucked at his ear lobe. 

“I would,” Richie said. “I’d do anything. Fuck, look at you, you’re fucking obscene. Can’t wait to taste your cock. Bet you taste good.” Eddie’s hips bucked up and into Richie’s fist again. His balls were tight; his skin felt like it was covered in a rash. He felt so good he thought his eyes would roll back in his head. Richie’s other hand fell from the wall and gripped Eddie’s hip, his thumb pressing into the meat of Eddie’s ass. “I hope you always get this wet. Fucking drip for it. So fucking hot.”

Eddie pressed into Richie’s hand and when he started to come, Richie pressed, impossibly, closer into him, like there was no space between them, like they had the same atoms making them up. Eddie shook through it, and it was such a relief, it was so good he wanted to cry. 

“Jesus,” Richie said and pressed his thumb against the head of Eddie’s dick until Eddie keened. They stood there, breathing against each other for another few seconds. Then, Richie pulled out of Eddie slowly. Eddie tucked his dick into his briefs and hiked up his pants. He turned and watched as Richie tied the condom off and tossed it towards the dumpster. 

Richie absolutely looked like he’d just had sex. Eddie guessed he looked just as bad. He tried to smooth his hair back over. His dick was already sticky inside his pants. “You go back to the bar,” he said and tried not to feel shy, all of the sudden. “I’ll go to the washroom. We can switch out. Order me another drink.”

Richie nodded, and then Eddie nodded back. Richie asked, “Ready?”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah,” he said. 

  
  


When was cleaned up, he went back out to the bar. Richie had ordered him another old fashioned. He sipped at a bottle of beer. “Save my spot,” he said as he slipped off the barstool. When he was back, Eddie was feeling rosy-cheeked and a little bit shy and altogether fanfuckingtastic. Richie was hot and Eddie had convinced him to fuck him. Outside - in an alley! Eddie was a whole new person. 

Richie slid onto his seat. “So,” Richie said. 

“So,” Eddie said. 

“That was like, really good,” Richie said. “For me. That was good.”

“Good,” Eddie said. Mulled it over. “Solid seven point five outta ten,” he smiled at Richie. “I’d come again soon.”

“Seven point five,” Richie said, slow and breathy. When he caught Eddie’s eye, he smiled, toothy and genuine. “You are such a dick.”

Eddie laughed, and Richie picked at the label of his beer. “I don’t want to be presumptuous,” Eddie said. “But when do you leave the city?”

“I have a show tomorrow,” Richie said. “Fly out the next afternoon.”

“Will I see you again?” Eddie asked.

“You want to?” Richie said, eyebrow up. 

Eddie nodded. “Yes, Richie,” he said slowly, holding Richie’s eye as he did it. It felt important. "I’d like to see you again"

“Oh,” Richie said and smiled. “Okay, I’d like that.” He took another long sip of his beer. “I don’t know if you’d wanna-”

“I would,” Eddie said and got another big smile back in return. 

“You don't know what I was going to say.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie said, smiled back over his glass. 

“Come back to my hotel with me,” Richie said.

“Yeah, okay.”

  
  
  


When Eddie woke up the next morning, Richie was still asleep. He dressed quietly. Wrote a note onto the hotel-branded notepad on the bedside table:

_You better text me, Richie. Seriously. I hope I see you soon. - Eds_

It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he realized he hadn’t ever put his number into Richie’s phone, at the bar. He found Richie’s twitter, realized Richie probably wasn’t the one who actually had access to it. Was probably run by an intern or something. 

Eddie thought about Richie until he didn’t; remembered him and the way he felt until he didn’t; then, one day half a year later, he got a phone call from an unknown number. Then he remembered everything in one fell swoop, crashed his car, and caught a flight to main. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _Love Song Seven Ways_ by Benjamin Lazar Davis.  
>  I still love you  
> More than I should ever have been allowed  
> In a world of candy guns  
> Sweet as demons in the candy apple sun  
> Think it quiet but then don't sing it loud  
> To a world of number ones  
> Pointed skyward at the candy apple sun


End file.
